


His Butler, In the Interim

by LadyWallace



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Canon Compliant, Caretaking, Coda to Chapter 65, Gen, Hurt Sebastian Michaelis, Hurt/Comfort, Kuroshitsuji: Book of the Atlantic, Sebastian needs to rest, Sick Ciel, Strong Bonds, aftermath of the zombie attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-10 22:40:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20535779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyWallace/pseuds/LadyWallace
Summary: Coda to Book of Atlantic/Campania Arc—The trouble may be over for now, but the icy water has taken its toll on Ciel, and the Undertaker's death scythe has taken its toll on his butler. Will they be able to get back to England in one piece?





	His Butler, In the Interim

**Author's Note:**

> My friend recently finally succeeded in getting me into anime/manga which led me to becoming obsessed with Black Butler so I had to at least write one fic for this fandom. This is just a direct coda to Chapter 65 in the Manga or Book of Atlantic, because I need some patching up after whump happens.
> 
> (Also, I can't believe I have to specify this, but this story is obviously pedophilia free -_-)

It was quiet again. Finally. The living dead were back to being just dead, body parts floating in the crimson-tinged waters surrounding the small boat.

For a moment Sebastian stood there, the gore-soaked oar still gripped tightly in his hand, breathing heavily as reality came back to him along with an unforgiveable exhaustion.

A soft cough came from near his feet and he glanced down at the young lord, shivering in the bottom of the boat, huddled in Sebastian's coat. "Is…is it over?" he asked hoarsely.

Sebastian wavered, the exhaustion suddenly turning into full on dizziness, nausea even—his limbs weak from the overexertion, the pain ripping through him from the nearly mortal blow he had been dealt. The oar slipped from his hand and clattered into the boat. Before he could stop himself, he too crashed to his knees with a strangled cry, clutching his wound.

"Sebastian!" Ciel cried with a flurry of coughs, half reaching toward his butler in shock.

Sebastian swallowed hard. "The blow of the death scythe…was difficult even for me to endure." He clutched his chest, feeling more blood seep between his fingers, also feeling it trickle down his back—ironically the only warmth in the freezing temperature. He coughed and blood spattered from his lips, dripped out of the corner of his mouth. He pressed a hand to his mouth, trying to stifle the spasms without much luck.

"This is the first time I've seen you in such a state," Ciel murmured, worry darkening his voice.

Sebastian gasped for breath, each one making it feel like the death scythe was running him through all over again. "Pardon me for being so ungraceful," he said weakly, bowing his head, shamed that his master had to see him in such a state as this, though he could do nothing to help that right now. "I am unfit to be the Phantomhive butler."

"You're right," Ciel said, pressing his lips into a thin line. "I can't afford to have my butler stay in that state forever. Make sure you rest up when we return to the manor." He met the demon's eyes then. "You did well today."

Sebastian choked back a cough but couldn't help a small smile. "Young master, please stop. I cannot believe you are saying such things. Careful, or you might bring a storm down upon us."

"Quiet, you," Ciel growled before he started coughing again and this time didn't stop. Sebastian instinctively reached out to steady him, feeling the small body shuddering under his hand. The boy was chilled to the touch, and the butler could detect the rasping in his lungs. He drew his brows together in concern. The young earl's asthma would not fare well in these conditions.

Ciel drew Sebastian's coat tighter around him and huddled further into the bottom of the boat, teeth chattering, shivers wracking his whole body.

"My lord, I fear you have caught cold," Sebastian said worriedly.

Ciel didn't reply, simply continued to shiver and cough, eyes closed. Sebastian looked up and saw, finally, the rescue ship approaching in the distance.

"Young master, it looks like rescue is on its way," he said, trying to put as much optimism into his voice as he could.

Ciel still didn't respond. Sebastian shook him a bit roughly, causing him to come to again with a start, coughs bursting from his throat.

"My lord, you cannot fall asleep!" he said sternly and shifted so that he was sitting on the bench, and reached for the last remaining oar. He pulled Ciel close to him, sharing as much body heat as he could offer. It wasn't much. He was just as cold and feeling it too, which he should not have been. In fact, he almost had to fight back a shiver himself as a cold sea breeze cut across their path. Ciel whimpered and Sebastian tried to shield him as much as possible with his body as he put the oar in the water and started to row slowly over to join the other boats so they could be rescued faster.

"Hold on, young master," he said quietly. "It won't be long now."

Gritting his teeth, Sebastian started the laborious journey, every stroke with the oar sending a wave of agony through him. He was gravely wounded, stranded with his young master, and _starving_. He could usually hold himself in check, but wounded as he was, he couldn't help but think of the gnawing hunger that only weakened him further. It had been so long since he'd eaten, and he knew that it would only take him longer to recover because of it. Despite the young lord's blessing for him to rest, if Ciel was ill, Sebastian knew he would not be able to do so quite yet. He couldn't possibly imagine doing so if his young master needed him—which he would. Ciel would never let anyone else see him in this state.

Ciel was dangerously unresponsive and Sebastian was truly flagging by the time they got to the ship. When it was their turn to board, Sebastian simply pulled the young earl into his arms and climbed one-handed up the ladder—a much greater feat than it should have been.

Crew members came with blankets and Sebastian took one for Ciel, but waved them away as they exclaimed over his own bloody state. "Please, Earl Phantomhive is ill and he needs to be put somewhere warm."

The crew conferred and ushered them further down the deck.

Sebastian saw with some relief that the Midfords were gathered, huddled together on the deck, Snake with them.

Lizzie was crying softly, but looked up as they approached and gasped, running forward.

"Ciel!" she cried, clapping a hand over her mouth as she saw his limp form lying in Sebastian's arms.

"My lady, forgive me, but the earl has fallen ill and it is important we get him warm," he said.

"Sir, this way," said one of the crewmen, motioning to a staircase. Sebastian pushed past Lizzie and her family as they exclaimed over the condition of the young earl and his butler, and started down the stairs after the crewman.

A cough suddenly burst from Sebastian's throat, startling even him, and he nearly doubled over, reaching out to steady himself only to miss the railing and slip on the next stair. He collapsed in an unseemly heap, only barely managing to cradle Ciel against him and protect him in the fall for the second time that day.

The Midfords and Snake rushed toward him as the crewman turned back and exclaimed, reaching out to lend a hand.

"Black, are you all right?...askes Emily," Snake said, hovering.

"I'm…fine," Sebastian gritted out. "Don't…" he was overcome with another coughing fit, burying his face in his elbow, tasting the metallic heat of his blood as it dribbled out the side of his mouth.

"Sir, you need to be in the sickbay!" the crewman exclaimed.

Sebastian gasped in a breath, choking back another cough as he fought to get to his feet with his precious cargo. "My master's needs come first."

The marquess came toward them then, settling a kindly hand on Sebastian's shoulder. "Butler, I'll take Ciel, you get your wounds tended to."

Sebastian's eyes widened. "My lord, with respect…"

"With respect, sir, you're in no condition to care for him," the marquess said, though not unkindly. He glanced up and nodded to his son. "Edward, you and the footman get Mr. Michaelis to the infirmary." He then simply took Ciel from Sebastian's arms and strode off after the footman, Lizzie and her mother following with a rustle of damp skirts.

More blood choked Sebastian and he was forced to cough, doubling over and nearly retching. He was horrified to find himself shuddering when Snake and Edward both took him under an arm and heaved him back to his feet.

"You don't look good, Mr. Michaelis," Edward said, worry tinting his voice. "What happened?"

Sebastian didn't bother replying, saving his energy for keeping his feet under him. He thought perhaps the wound had been worse than he'd thought at first. And the further activity of their escape and his need to kill all the animated dead hadn't helped matters. It had taken him two days to heal from the blows Grell Sutcliffe had dealt him during the Jack the Ripper case, and those were scratches compared to this. Furthermore, what would the doctors say about a wound that would have killed a normal human?

He pulled away when they got into the sickbay, which was bustling with activity. Sebastian had to prop himself against the wall, but he stood on his own feet. He turned to Edward. "Thank you, sir, but you should be with your sister. Mr. Snake will help me here."

Edward clenched his jaw but nodded and hurried off. Sebastian clutched Snake's shoulder and the young man turned to look at him with round eyes, the snakes draped over his shoulders matching the expression.

"Fetch me bandages then go and see where they have taken the earl."

"You're bleeding an awful lot, Black…says Oscar," Snake commented, furrowing his brow as he helped Sebastian into a chair that had been left unoccupied in a corner of the room.

Sebastian gritted his teeth against another cough, ignoring him. "Fetch me something clean to wear as well, I cannot attend the earl looking like this. Quickly, Snake!"

Snake bit his lip but nodded and hurried off. Sebastian slumped into the chair, hand pressed against his chest. He willed his body to heal itself like it normally would, but simply the thought of it made him even more exhausted. He would bind the wounds and reserve his energy for taking care of his young master.

Luckily the infirmary attendants were all too busy with the large amount of injured to notice one butler with inhuman injuries sitting against one wall. Snake hurried back in due time with bandages and clean clothes tucked under one arm.

"They took Smile to a cabin just down the hall…says Oscar," Snake informed him.

"Very well," Sebastian said, unbuttoning his ruined waistcoat and shirt. "Bring me some water and cloths."

Snake left the bandages and hurried off again. Sebastian gritted his teeth as he peeled the shirt from his shoulders, a slight shiver assaulting him. He ripped off his gloves and prodded the wound in his chest gently before doubling over with a coughing fit.

Snake was at his side, gripping his shoulder, keeping him steady. Sebastian brushed him off in annoyance—he should not be this weak—and turned to the water the boy had brought.

In only a few minutes, he made himself as presentable as he could and had bound his torso front and back with the bandages, grudgingly accepting Snake's help.

As he was pulling on the new clothing, he picked up the sound of his young master making a row.

Leaving the waistcoat unbuttoned for the time, Sebastian gripped Snake's shoulder and urged him forward. "Come, we must attend the earl."

They hurried down the hallway and Sebastian pushed open the door, coming in on the scene of Ciel fighting with Lord Midford and presumably a doctor as they tried to undress him.

"Stop, leave me alone!" he cried before collapsing into a coughing fit that shook his whole body. "Sebastian!"

Sebastian pushed forward. "Right here, my lord. Please, allow me."

Lord Midford's eyes widened as they landed on Sebastian. "Mr. Michaelis, you should not be up and about in your condition."

"And yet, I'm on my feet," Sebastian told him. "With respect, sir, my young master is very particular, and I know best what he needs. Allow me to get him comfortable so that the doctor may examine him."

Ciel stopped coughing and moaned. "Se-Sebastian?"

Sebastian pushed forward to the bed and knelt beside it to be at eye level with the earl. "I'm here, my lord," he repeated.

Ciel coughed. "Please…make them leave."

Sebastian nearly smiled. "Only if you allow the doctor to tend to you."

"F-fine," Ciel murmured, and his consent told Sebastian just how exhausted he was.

He straightened up stiffly and turned to the others. "If you would let me attend my lord in private for a moment?"

The doctor and Lord Midford left reluctantly. Sebastian sighed and turned back to Ciel.

"Really, young master, you are most needy," he chided gently as he unwrapped his still sodden coat from around Ciel's shoulders and hung it over the back of a chair. "You tell me to rest and yet you won't let anyone else aid you, even in such a state."

Ciel coughed pitifully as Sebastian swiftly undressed him, catching sight the brand on his back which was the only splash of color on his otherwise extremely pale skin—the reason he would accept help from no one except his butler.

Once Ciel was dressed in a warm nightshirt, Sebastian tucked him under the blankets in the bed. He frowned as he placed the back of his hand against Ciel's forehead and found it warm.

"I fear you're getting a fever now that you're not half frozen to death," Sebastian told him. "Please allow me to fetch the doctor for you and I will see if I cannot find some tea."

Ciel didn't reply, only shivered under the blankets—such a fragile weak little thing, Sebastian mused. And yet one with a soul that was stronger than iron. For a moment he just stared, his hunger gnawing horribly, but he forced it back. He could not sacrifice his duty for his own needs.

He fetched the doctor back into the room and stood by while the man performed his examination, gave Ciel some medicine, and then left, having other patients to see to.

Lord Midford hovered and Sebastian took the opportunity to go and find some tea for the earl.

In the frantic bustle to get all the victims of the _Campania_ settled and tended, it took him an awfully long time to find the kitchens and the proper articles. But he managed it—after all, what kind of butler would he be if he couldn't even fetch his master a cup of tea?

However, his wound was paining him in earnest by the time he got back to the room, and he could feel the blood seeping through the bandages. Luckily the dark waistcoat should hide that fact until he had a chance to do something about it.

The Marquess was sitting beside Ciel's bed when Sebastian returned with the tea service, a worried furrow digging into his brow as the young earl coughed.

"My lord, I've brought tea," Sebastian said, setting it on the side table.

Ciel's eyes opened and he attempted to sit up but seemed too weak. Instinctively, Sebastian leaned over the bed and reached to prop him up. However, the movement pulled at his wounds and agony shot through him, tearing things further inside.

He just barely turned aside in time to cough into his hand. When he pulled it back, he saw blood painting his white glove. He gasped, choking on more blood, before a horrible coughing fit overtook him and he was unable to keep from sinking to his knees.

"Sebastian!" Ciel called, distressed.

Hands gripped Sebastian's shoulders and were ashamedly the only thing that kept him from falling on his face. "Mr. Michaelis, your loyalty is admirable, but you must rest," Lord Midford said in no uncertain terms, already pulling him to his feet and steering him toward the door. "Your footman and our servants are in the cabin down the hall, I'll call for the doctor to see to your injury."

"My lord, I am fine," Sebastian replied weakly, and didn't even convince himself.

"You're coughing blood, man," Lord Midford said in astonishment, pushing him from the room. "Have some dignity in front of your master. You should never have allowed him to see you in such a state, especially when he is so ill himself."

Sebastian bowed his head. "Yes, you are right, my lord, I apologize. That was quite inconsiderate of me."

The man's hand was surprisingly kindly on his shoulder, leading him to the other room. "He is not alone right now, I will look after him myself. You can allow yourself a little rest and be easy for it."

Sebastian gritted his teeth at his admittedly helpless position but nodded all the same. He found his way to a cot in the cabin and sat gingerly before carefully stretching out on his back, breathing a sigh of relief despite himself, closing his eyes. He felt someone pull a blanket over him but couldn't find it in himself to care. His body needed rest to speed the healing process, and though he was loth to admit that, he knew that it would get him back to his master quicker. Frankly, he wouldn't wish an ill Ciel Phantomhive on anyone.

He resurfaced from unconsciousness groggily to someone tugging at his clothes. He grabbed the person's wrist in a crushing grip, forcing his eyes open as he heard a gasp.

"I'm just tending your wounds, sir," said a calm voice, and Sebastian recognized it as belonging to the doctor.

Deciding it would be more trouble to refuse, Sebastian let him go and allowed him to continue, snipping through his bandages, and letting out a soft curse as he saw the extent of the wound.

"My you've taken quite the blow, young man. How on earth did this happen?" he asked.

Sebastian didn't answer, eyes already slipping shut again. Lying would be just another inconvenience. He would settle it later when he had more energy if he had to.

He drifted back into unconsciousness to the feeling of the needle pricking through his skin, binding his flesh back together again in a crude way that was detestably more efficient than his own healing powers at the moment.

When he came back the next time, it was to someone lifting his head and pouring a trickle of water into his mouth. He moved to knock the glass away, but detected the slightly reptilian scent of Snake. He cracked his eyes open and looked up into the boy's solemn, worried expression.

Sebastian pushed his hand away more gently than he had been planning to, and swallowed thickly before attempting to speak. "The young master…how is he?"

"He's fevered and very restless. He keeps asking for you…says Emily."

That hurt Sebastian more than it should have. Knowing that his young master wanted him and he couldn't go to him. Even if the earl commanded it, someone would eventually send Sebastian back to rest.

But maybe he could still check on him. Sebastian tried to push himself upright, causing Snake to stagger back slightly. The movement turned out to be a mistake, however, as Sebastian felt every blood vessel that had started to repair itself tear open anew at the movement. A small cry escaped his lips and he doubled over, blood trying to exit his throat again.

Snake quickly caught him and pressed him back to the bed. "Please…please rest," he whispered.

Sebastian's eyes were already closed as he fought for breath, feeling himself drifting off again. This state was inexcusable, and yet he didn't even really have the strength to be furious. He felt someone wiping his face and couldn't stay conscious another moment.

_~~~~~~~_

_The next thing_ Sebastian was aware of was a fit of coughing and the feeling of a small body collapsing onto the side of his cot.

"Se-Sebastian," a voice whispered before being overcome with coughs again. A shaking hand pressed into his chest, and the butler winced slightly. "You…you are not allowed to die. Do you hear me, Sebastian? I command you to live."

Sebastian cracked his eyes open, looking up into the deathly pale face of Ciel and Snake behind him, looking a little ashamed. "M-my lord? You should be in bed," Sebastian chided.

"He insisted on seeing you…says Wordsworth," Snake admitted, glancing down at his shoes.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes, but decided he would deal with the young footman later. "You are always incorrigible, young master." He fought back another cough, and Ciel's eyes locked on him worriedly, his illness letting down the normal shields he would put over his emotions. At the moment he was showing his true colors—just a child scared of being left alone.

Sebastian reached up to wipe his mouth of any blood, but Ciel caught his hand and dug his nails into his wrist, twisting it so the seal on the back of Sebastian's hand was pointed at the butler's face.

"Did you hear me before, Sebastian?" he demanded, voice wavering, but a little more of his usual steel returning if nothing but a farce. "You will not break our contract. Death scythe or not, a Phantomhive butler does not perish before his master."

Sebastian huffed a small laugh and extricated his hand, clutching his young master's with it. "I would never dream of it, my lord. Though to be fair you don't look long for this world yourself. Perhaps you will give your poor butler a consideration and perish right now? A soul like yours would have me up and about in no time."

"Shut up," Ciel growled, yanking his hand away and coughing into his fist. "It's just a bloody cold, I've survived worse."

"Stubborn as always, young master," Sebastian said with satisfaction, practically inhaling the fire in his master's spirit, despite the fact that he was so ill. He placed his hand over his heart. "I promise I will recover. Though it may take me a while longer than usual."

"I suppose that will have to be good enough," Ciel said, before another coughing fit overtook him and he doubled over, nearly toppling from the cot.

"My lord!" Sebastian exclaimed, instinctively sitting up and catching Ciel as he crumpled to the ground. Sebastian slid from the cot, his wounds jarring as he supported his young master.

"Just breathe, my lord, just breathe."

Footsteps rushed in. It was the doctor and Lord Midford, who cursed.

"Ciel! What are you doing out of bed!" he demanded, rushing forward as he and the doctor helped the two invalids up.

"No—Sebas…tian," Ciel choked out and Lord Midford halted, staring down at Ciel who had grabbed hold on Sebastian's sleeve and wasn't letting go.

"My lord, you must rest," Sebastian murmured, settling a hand over the frail wrist as the doctor helped him back onto the cot. "Don't make a scene now. You need not worry about me."

"Please," Ciel said softly, coughing again, but still clutching at his butler.

Lord Midford sighed and turned to Snake. "Fetch another cot for the earl."

"My lord, he really should be in a real bed," the doctor protested quietly.

"Then we'll bring extra padding." He lowered his voice. "The butler is all the boy has—he's grown quite fond of him. If his condition worsens…"

The doctor nodded in understanding, and Sebastian smiled to himself at the absurdity that they would let Ciel stay with him in case he were to take a turn for the worse as some sort of mercy to the young master.

The arrangements were made quickly. Another cot brought in with extra padding and pillows and Ciel was installed on it, turning onto his side so he could face Sebastian. His eyes opened and he blinked. Sebastian gave him a longsuffering smile.

"I do hope you will rest now, my lord. Though there really is no need to be so clingy, I already told you I wasn't going anywhere."

Ciel glowered at him, but his eyes were already slipping closed as the doctor checked his temperature and pulled more blankets over him. Sebastian breathed a sigh of relief and allowed himself to sink back onto his own cot. The young master should be asleep for at least a while. Hopefully enough time for Sebastian's wound to start healing in earnest. If he was lucky it might be mostly healed by the time they got back to port.

He watched his young master sleep, and sighed regrettably. It was probably wishful thinking that Ciel would remember his order to let Sebastian rest once they got back to the manor. But then again, if he could not tend to his master even after receiving a grievous injury, then what kind of butler would he be?


End file.
